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Updated: June 20, 2025
And Fleur gazed promptly into the fireplace with an air of seeing a fire which was not there. Monsieur Profond came from the window. He was in full fig, with a white waistcoat and a white flower in his buttonhole. "Well, Miss Forsyde," he said, "I'm awful pleased to see you. Mr. Forsyde well? I was sayin' to-day I want to see him have some pleasure. He worries."
Half the world's starvin'. I feed a small lot of babies out in my mother's country; but what's the use? Might as well throw my money in the river." Soames looked at him, and turned back towards his Goya. He didn't know what the fellow wanted. "What shall I make my cheque for?" pursued Monsieur Profond.
Down in the failing light Prosper Profond moved, his hands in his side pockets, whistling softly in his beard; he stopped, and glanced up at the sky, as if saying: "I don't think much of that small moon." Fleur drew back.
Observant, quick, resourceful, Val went straight to the heart of a transaction, a horse, a drink; and he was on his way to the heart of a Mayfly filly, when a slow voice said at his elbow: "Mr. Val Dartie? How's Mrs. Val Dartie? She's well, I hope." And he saw beside him the Belgian he had met at his sister Imogen's. "Prosper Profond I met you at lunch," said the voice.
Isn't there a small thing I can do for you?" "Yes, pass by on the other side." "I say! Why do you dislike me?" "It looks like it." "Well, then, because you make me feel life isn't worth living." Monsieur Profond smiled. "Look here, Miss Forsyde, don't worry. It'll be all right. Nothing lasts." "Things do last," cried Fleur; "with me anyhow especially likes and dislikes."
Isn't there a small thing I can do for you?" "Yes, pass by on the other side." "I say! Why do you dislike me?" "Do I?" "It looks like it." "Well, then, because you make me feel life isn't worth living." Monsieur Profond smiled. "Look here, Miss Forsyde, don't worry. It'll be all right. Nothing lasts." "Things do last," cried Fleur; "with me anyhow especially likes and dislikes."
He had bought the ugly great thing with two early Matisses before the War, because there was such a fuss about those Post-Impressionist chaps. He was wondering whether Profond would take them off his hands the fellow seemed not to know what to do with his money when he heard his sister's voice say: "I think that's a horrid thing, Soames," and saw that Winifred had followed him up.
He smiled with a deep and sleepy air of prosperity, as if he had caught it from his name. Whether his saying "small" when he ought to have said "little" was genuine mistake or affectation Val could not decide; the fellow was evidently capable of anything. Among the ring of buyers round the Mayfly filly who had won her race, Monsieur Profond said: "You goin' to bid?" Val nodded.
He hoped they were making that chap Profond run. And the girl in "La Vendimia" stood with her arm akimbo and her dreamy eyes looking past him. 'I've done all I could for you, he thought, 'since you were no higher than my knee. You aren't going to to hurt me, are you? But the Goya copy answered not, brilliant in colour just beginning to tone down. 'There's no real life in it, thought Soames.
"Five hundred," said Soames shortly; "but I don't want you to take it if you don't care for it more than that." "That's all right," said Monsieur Profond; "I'll be 'appy to 'ave that picture." He wrote a cheque with a fountain-pen heavily chased with gold. Soames watched the process uneasily. How on earth had the fellow known that he wanted to sell that picture?
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